Obsession
by Awesome Empress
Summary: That man isn't here today, but I still feel his stare. In my home, my thoughts, in my head. He won't leave me alone! Is he a stalker? But what could he possibly want from me! I-I just don't know what to do anymore! He's watching me, my every move...
1. Chapter 1

**Entry 1 November 23**,

It's sunny outside, but it won't be for very long. I've moved into my recently deceased grandparents house, a huge two story building located just at the edge of the city. It's normally dark and grey outside, almost as if the clouds belonged here. It's a quiet neighborhood, where almost no one went outside for a Sunday stroll so it gave off the sense of abondonment.

Sure one might think this type of environment creating a lonesome type of atmosphere was no fun, but I didn't mind it. Being ignored almost all of my 21 year old life, I had grown used to silence and neglect.

Doesn't mean I don't mind having a friend or two, but oh well. For now I can only unpack my things with help from my American cousin, Alfred, and try to tune out his babbling about God knows what.

I like the hoser, really I do, but he gets to be a bit too much for me and my nerves. Not that he notices my annoyance anyway, or my presence for the matter.

He'll be staying for a month in order to assist with my packing and maybe stay for Christmas. I can tell he doesn't really want to spend the holidays here. So he'll leaving me all alone in this gigantic house soon. Maybe I should buy a puppy? So I won't be alone.

Knowing my luck though, it'd be best if I don't. It'd probably ignore me like most of humanity.

**Entry 2 November 30**,

Only a week has passed and I already miss my old home. It rains non-stop, so I'm stuck in a cold house all day. The heater doesn't seem to be working either. Piece of crap.

Today, I went out to the market to load up on some groceries. Right as I walked out of the brightly lit building, it starts pouring. On my way to my parked car, there was a man leaning back against the side of the building. At first I paid no mind to him, until he fell over and lay on the concrete floor, unmoving.

I was beside my car at that point, so I dropped my bags, and rushed over to help. By the time I had arrived, he seemed to regain conciousness, and he sat up, still in the pouring rain.

Making sure he was okay, I asked him questions on his health. I was a nurse in training after all. The mysterious man had his hood up so I couldn't make out a face, and he seemed to ignore me. Big surprise. Giving him a thorough once over, I announced that he would be okay, it was just slight fatigue.

He didn't look like a hobo, but I gave him some money anyways. I had peeked at his face briefly and noticed a bit of swelling. Maybe a fight? Well, none of my business.

Turning to walk back to my car that was only a few feet away, I cursed myself. All my bags were soaking and I was no better! Before I could take a step though, I was halted by a hand grasping my arm. I turned and watched as the man stood up, silently walking me back to the car. Once there, he grabbed my plastic bags, loaded them into the trunk, and left.

"Thanks."

Maybe some people aren't so bad in this miserable place.

**Entry 3 Decemeber 1**,

It's cold outside and I don't like it one bit. My nose gets all puffed up and red as well as my eyes. I cough and sneeze, but I don't really get sick. It's both weird and frustrating. I went outside once the rain stopped to retrieve the mail, hoping maybe a letter from my Maman had come for me.

It didn't. In fact nothing but a few newspapers was in the mail box. Maybe the mail was slow because I switched addresses? Not thinking much about it, I was about to walk back to the safety and comfort of my home, something caught my eye. A car- no a van parked at the end of my street. The headlights weren't on and I thought maybe I was seeing things. Was someone in there?

I didn't decide to stay in the cold to ponder about it. What business did I have snooping around? If some person wanted to be in a van on a cold night like this one, I say let them be.

I really must get my glasses checked. Maybe my prescription needs an updating.

I could almost swear I saw the flash of a camera go off as I entered through the front door.

**Entry 4 December 8**,

Would you take me as rude if I confided a dirty confession to you? At this moment I cannot stand Alfred. He brought his 'pal' over for dinner today, which was fine with me even though he did so without permission. I think Arthur was his name. A short British man with blond hair, blazing green eyes, and a dirty mouth.

I don't mind cussing, really, so don't think of me as prude. But maple that man could make a sailor blush with what was coming out of his mouth! And I understand Alfred doesn't exactly bring out the nicest side of people, but even then!

Arthur's company is not one I would care for. But being that Alfred and I are polar opposites, I guess I can understand. Alfred obviously is smitten over the loud mouth Brit, and I wish I could be happy for him. Especially seeing as Arthur also harbors the same type of feelings, but maple they won't shut up! My sanity can only bear the weight of one idiot at a time.

The rain won't let up either.

**Entry 5 December 10**,

Well, I have to say I'm a bit ashamed. I thought I could handle the situation, but the second Alfred and Arthur confessed they began fucking like rabbits in heat. E-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e.

I wouldn't be surprised if they had done it on my bed. I've walked in on them for far too many times and have gotten scarred for life. When my interruptions didn't stop them, I knew I had to step in. It's just too disgusting to be hear sounds from my cousin like that. We're family!

So I finally confronted them, well Alfred at least. (Arthur's temper scared me too much to actually face him.) Alfred was slightly offended that I found his sexual affairs, quite frankly, nasty and announced that they would go to Arthur's house for two days to get rid of all their sexual tensions there.

I was glad at first, but now I almost wish I could hear their groans and moans and the bed frame hitting the wall. The silence is unnerving. I think my paranoia started when I saw the van. Every afternoon at 5:00, I go out to get my mail that I never seem to get. It's a simple rountine.

Yet, everytime I see that same old, white van at the end of my street. It's not there when I leave for work in the morning, or at night when I look out the window. No, it's only there at 5:00 when I go out.

And everytime I turn to stare at it I see a flash of a camera.

**Entry 6 December 13**,

Alfred called me today. Seems like he has to cut our time together short in favor of spending the rest of the Winter season with his beloved. I could almost scream.

The van is here now, all the time. Since last I wrote, it comes every morning at 7 o'clock sharp and leaves every night at 10:00. Maybe the driver knows someone around the block?

But it doesn't make sense. Now it no longer parks at the end of the street where I can barely make out its shape, no it has moved to parking right across from my house. The black tinted windows don't let me see inside, but I know a person is in there. Maybe a robber trying to find a way in? The house itself is fancy and beautiful in contrast to the ones that surround it.

I wish Alfred was here.

**Entry 7 December 19**,

I've adopted a dog. A big, adult Pitbull from a pound not far from where I live. If anything, he was solely for protection seeing as he's already been trained, but I'm growing attached. It really is a tamed sweetheart.

I can't decide what to name the big oaf. I'm thinking something along the lines of Kumajiro. I know it sounds silly, but I want something unique. Kumajiro fits. Hopefully I'll remember it.

The van's here again, but I ignore it. Why bother with it when it's doing no harm? That's what I tell myself anyways. The truth is that a man's been coming out and standing against it. I can't see his face, he wears a black hood over his face and shades. By his figure, he's definitely a male, maybe a little older than me.

He's deathly pale, and a bit taller than me by a few good inches. He stares right into my house, as if he could see through the curtains. I know he can't, but my paranoia won't stop attacking my nerves.

I've decided I'll have Kumajiro stay in the house, so that at least I'm not alone.

It's begun to rain again.

**Entry 8 December 22**,

Something horrible has happened today. I was in the upstairs bathroom, taking a shower, while Kumajiro was dozing off downstairs. There was a storm raging outside, and at one point I heard a booming crack of thunder. Storms made me uneasy, I've never enjoyed them. I don't think anyone ever has.

I was hurrying up in the shower, praying the power wouldn't go off due to the storm, when I heard growling, a muffled voice, and finally a pain filled whine. Automatically panicking, I hurriedly slipped out of the shower, barely managing to snatch a towel before I was out of the bathroom, and zooming down the stairs. Nearly tripping down on the last few steps, I ran to living room where I had left Kumajiro.

Whistling a special tune that signaled to the dog that there was an emergency, he should have bounded around the corner and came running to my aid. Instead another cry greeted me, lower than the first one, and this time I was the one running to Kumajiro's aid.

He was sprawled out on his side, and I nearly cried when I saw there was some blood staining his white coat. He slowly got up and limped closer to me, where I engulfed him in a hug. Upon closer inspection, I realized that the blood was not his, and that it was coming from his mouth. Gently prying open his jaws, I saw there were no injuries.

Only pieces of torn cloth. Black cloth. Torn. Torn black cloth.

This was clothing and it did not belong to me.

A shiver went down my spine and I suddenly became very aware that I may have not been the only person in the house. As Kumajiro snuggled his head closer, I took notice of a limp in his left leg, and a nasty bruise forming behind his head near his neck area.

A few tense seconds passed and I deemed it safe to move. Climbing upstairs, I slipped on whatever garment was in reach, and began to head out. Not before I noticed something in the deserted bathroom. There, on the fogged up mirror. Too big and wide to be mine.

I ran out of the house, with Kumajiro in my arms, determined to do two things. First, take my precious pitbull to the vet in order for him to heal his injuries. Second, call Alfred. I needed to tell him how Kumajiro attacked a uninvited guest in my house.

And about the bloody handprint on my mirror.

**Entry 9 December 22**,

Kumajiro's okay now. The vet informed me that he had been hit in back of the head with a blunt object, and when he fell, he landed wrong on his left leg, damaging the tissue. He'll have to rest up for a few days in order for it to heal properly. I decided to let him rest in a kennel.

My house is not safe anymore. When I came back home after dropping off a sedated Kumajiro, I searched the house for the intruder. But I found nothing, the handprint, now smeared away.

With my hockey stick in grasp in case of danger, I found out how the intruder got in my house. Near the back door, a window had been busted in. It must have been broken when that loud crack of lightening hit, since I didn't hear it. Guess it was a good idea to keep Kumajiro inside the house...

The van didn't come today.

I'm scared, and I think I'll ask Alfred if I can stay at his house for awhile until all this settles down. I should go to the police, I know, I know. But I know he's watching me. I may not see him, but I can feel his stare, I know it him.

The man in the van, the one I helped. It's him, I'm sure of it. But why? Why me? What could I possibly have, that he would want?

A storm is coming.

**Entry 10 January 2**,

The holiday's have passed and I'll have to find employment soon, the money left for me in my grandparent's will is running out. Christmas and New Year's Eve was pleasant. I spent it as an awkward third wheel with Alfred and Arthur. They didn't really pay attention to me, which was fine, I just needed an escape from my home.

If I can even call it that.

I'll be going back in a few days. Kumajiro is still in the kennels and I miss him terribly. Hopefully he's fully recovered now, I can't bear the thought of putting him in danger again. I've only had that pitbull for less than one month, yet I feel a strong connection with him rather than Alfred.

Hopefully my stalker will have lost interest and left. The sun's been out everyday and I almost miss my cold, grey world.

Almost.

**Entry 11 January 5**,

The van is not here anymore, but the man is here. I feel him. He's hiding in the shadows, watching my every move, my every breath. He's here, in my house where I can't see him.

I know he's here.

Alfred won't believe me, and Arthur suggested I see a psychiatrist. They don't understand. They don't know what it feels like to be watched every second of the day. No one's here to help me, not even Kumajiro.

When I went to retreive him, the helpers told me someone had taken him already. Someone who supposedly had a connection with me. They only told me he was a deathly pale albino. He's taken Kumajiro away. I'm truly alone now and I'm scared.

Sometimes, I see flashes of his face at the window. Deep red eyes, watching and watching, and watching. Waiting for me to give in. He's going to do something, I know it. I have to prepare, I have to leave, must hide.

Must hide from the man-

_This journal was found at the crime scene of Matthew Williams home, the last paragraph smeared with blood so that it was illegible. On January 20 Matthew's first cousin, Alfred F. Jones age 22, and Matthew's mother, Madeline Williams age 40, filed in a Missing Person Report. In the report, both relatives of the victim described that they had not been able to get in touch with Matthew for two weeks after he left his brother's house on January 2nd._

_Mr. Jones also added information that Matthew was having trouble adjusting to his new home, due to a stalker. Alfred confessed that at first when Matthew called him on December 22nd at approximately 11: 48 in a panicked voice about an intruder in his home, he did not believe him._

_For Matthew Williams had a case of Paranoid Personality Disorder. A psychiatric condition in which a person has a long-term distrust and suspicion of others. Deeming that it had just been his cousin's imagination, Mr. Jones shrugged it off._

_When Madeline Williams was interviewed, she told police that ever since her son had moved, letters that she sent to him were never answered. At first she just figured that Mr. Williams was too busy. But as days turned into weeks and then into months, she frequently called him on the phone, but he never answered._

_A forensics team took a blood sample from a handprint found on the mirror of the upstairs bathroom. Once tested, it was found to be the blood of a 27 year old Gilbert Beilschmidt._

_Gilbert Beilschmidt had a criminal record of serving 5 years in prison for Aggrevated Assault - A 2nd degree felony against a former lover, a woman named Elizaveta Hedervary. The original sentence was 8 years, but he was let out early due to good behavior. It was later found out that Gilbert suffered from OCD, or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder._

_Gilbert's OCD caused him to became very attached in relationships. When his partners ended their relationship, Gilbert became very violent, and easily a danger to anyone nearby._

_After reading the journal found in the upstairs bedroom, authorities suspect that Gilbert was the man at the supermarket. When Gilbert received kindness from Matthew, he easily became enamoured with the Candian. Matthew became his obsession._

_Only a few months ago, police investigated an abandoned cabin deep in the woods, where eye witness reports of Gilbert were seen. There, police found thousands of pictures decorating the walls from top to bottom all of Matthew Williams. Along the desks were pieces of clothing that had Matthew's DNA on it, as well as a rottening corpse of Kumajiro. The beloved pitbull of the victim._

_On the bed were samples of blood and semen, both from the missing blonde. With enough proof to have Gilbert be put behind bars, police set out pictures of the wanted man, hoping to get a lead. Unfortunately, to this day no one has seen a trace of either Gilbert Beilschmidt, a 27 year-old German, or Matthew Williams, 21 year-old Canadian._

_Matthew has been missing for 14 years._

_._

_._

_._

* * *

I am so mean to Matthew and Gilbert, I mean in the majority of the stories I write about them **something **always happens -_-;

Oh well, it was fun to write this. I wanted to write something dark since I'm currently working on two on-going humor stories. Really sorry to those who wanted an update on _People Change _and/or _Matthew in Wonderland_, I swear I will get to those stories soon.

But finals are coming up and so I won't be writing for FFN for at least 2-3 weeks :( Sorry! Hopes this makes up for it!

Hey! Drop a review and make my day alright? c:


	2. Chapter 2

Here it is, just like I promised! The Obsession Sequel! For those who read the Author's Note I left behind *Cough* no one *Cough* I lied. I tried so hard to make Gilbert's side of the story but I just couldn't!

**Important: **So instead of this chapter being Gilbert's side of the story I decided to make an alternate ending for those who absolutely could not handle unknown endings. So this side of the story has absolutely no connection to the first chapter in case you were wondering.

**Beware: Psychotic!Mattie. **I can only say that cuz I don't want to spoil the story.

Enjoy.

* * *

_Entry 11 January 5,_

_The van is not here anymore, but the man is here. I feel him. He's hiding in the shadows, watching my every move, my every breath. He's here, in my house where I can't see him._

_I know he's here._

_Alfred won't believe me, and Arthur suggested I see a psychiatrist. They don't understand. They don't know what it feels like to be watched every second of the day. No one's here to help me, not even Kumajiro._

_When I went to retreive him, the helpers told me someone had taken him already. Someone who supposedly had a connection with me. They only told me he was a deathly pale albino. He's taken Kumajiro away. I'm truly alone now and I'm scared._

_Sometimes, I see flashes of his face at the window. Deep red eyes, watching and watching, and watching. Waiting for me to give in. He's going to do something, I know it. I have to prepare, I have to leave, must hide._

_Must hide from the man named Gil_-

A loud crashing came from the entryway as Matthew's cousin came bursting through the door. Matthew, beyond terrified, stood petrified as he held a hand to his erratic heart, his journal entry forgotten.

"A-Alfred?" Came Matthew's frightened whisper, the boy was deathly pale, and seemed as if he would collapse at any given moment. Alfred, recovering from his vigorous entry, now stood and stomped over to the Canadian. Matthew flinched, but otherwise remained unmoving.

"Mattie, why haven't you responded to your Mother? She's worried sick!" The Canadian parted his lips, but kept silent. His violet eyes were still bulging out, and it began to make Alfred uncomfortable.

"Mattie...look at me. What's wrong? Why are you acting like this?" There was desperation in the American's voice, he truly was worried for his cousin. It had been a long time since he acted up this badly.

"Alfred...you want to know what's wrong?" Matthew's head was downcast, his curly strands of blonde hiding his face from view. The room grew silent with suspense, and an air of uneasiness chilled Alfred.

"He's here Alfred. He hasn't left me alone. I don't know what he wants but he's always watching me. I-I don't know w-what to do!" By the end of the sentence, the twenty-one year old was close to hyperventilating.

Alfred, ignoring his cousin's anxiety induced state, noticed a small book on the desk behind the Canadian. Without detection, he silently reached around his family member and grasped the book. Once in his hand, the American began to flip through the pages, his expressions changing from confusion, to shock, and finally sympathy.

"Matthew," Called Alfred, his pitying gaze never leaving the distraught figure in front of him. Matthew, forcing himself to calm down, finally looked up and saw his journal in Alfred's hands. He made no move to grab it however, only stood staring at Alfred waiting.

"Matthew...what name were you going to write down here?" Alfred's tone was solemn, his eyes dropped as he waited for an answer he knew Matthew had. On the other hand, Matthew looked lost.

"The man..."

"Yes, the man's name. Whose name were you going to write?" Surprisingly, Alfred's voice calmed down the Canadian for him to think properly, and he answered without hesitation.

"Gilbert Beilshmidt."

Alfred didn't look the least bit surprised. If anything it appeared as if he had known the answer all along. He uttered a heavy sigh and began to speak when Matthew rudely cut him off. Speaking fast in an indifferent tone.

"Matt-"

"He's albino, he has snow white hair and blood red eyes. He's German and has a brother. A younger brother..."

A tense silence coiled in the small room as the tension grew. Matthew's eyes suddenly opened wide in fear and he clutched his head with both hands as if it were to explode.

"Yes him! It's him! He's the one! The one who looks at me, he's here, and as I speak he draws closer! He's the one who won't leave me alone! He's obsessed! Obsessed! Obsessed!"

Matthew continued on with his little chant until two hands gripped harshly at his shoulders and shook him roughly, from side to side.

"Matthew this has to stop! The only one who's obsessed here is you!" Alfred shouted, a mixture of frustration and concern in his tone. Matthew seemed to snap out of the trance he had been in only a few minutes ago, and once again seemed lost.

"I...don't understand."

Alfred ran his hands through his dirty blonde hair as he tried to keep his composure. Another deep sigh came from the taller blonde and finally he began the interrogation of his younger cousin.

"How do you know that?"

"...I..."

"How are you sure he's the one that's stalking you?"

"B-because..."

"Who is Gilbert Beilshmidt, Matthew?"

"You don't know do you?"

Matthew collapsed onto the floor and crawled into a little ball. Alfred's sympathetic gaze hardened as he looked down on the shaken man.

"Matthew, Gilbert was your psychiatrist. Remember Dr. Beilshmidt? You have Paranoid Personality Disorder Mattie, and you were getting too hostile in the crowded city. You suspected everyone, even your own Mother! You isolated yourself and stopped going to work. The whole family was worried that's why we sent you..."

"The asylum..."

Matthew, still huddled began to remember. Short bursts of memories would appear before him, then they'd be gone in an instant. In each flashback was a man with short white hair, and red piercing eyes. He was tall, a few inches more than the Canadian, and he bellowed a strange laugh.

"Yes, unfortunately the doctor we took you to thought that if we isolated you a bit from society, along with your medication, you'd be cured. It was the only way Mattie. Talk therapy only landed Mr. Bonnefoy in the hospital."

"D-Dr. Beilshmidt..."

Alfred bit his lip and balled his hands into fists to maintain his anger. It had been a mistake to believe some time in the asylum would help Mattie, he was already a lost cause. If only he hadn't been so deluded! Maybe then Matthew wouldn't be so close to the edge of his sanity.

"Beilshmidt was the doctor put in charge of you. I-I don't know h-how he gained your trust Mattie...I couldn't visit you for long periods of time because of that damn bastard's orders! That was when...w-when he..."

"Doctor...he...he hurt me, Alfred." Matthew had reverted back to a child, sobbing over something he could vaguely remember. That man in the white lab coat...

He was Matthew's love.

Matthew grew so attached to the security the Doctor provided, he unknowingly trusted the only person he should have doubted. Dr. Beilshmidt was too kind to Matthew, helped him through the days Matthew swore the guards would kill him. In that sound-proof office of his 'personal' doctor he was so vulnerable.

"Matthew...that man was sick...He needed the medication as much as you did!"

"No! H-He...He kept me safe!"

"No! He abused you Matthew! And when you were let out he came after you! Why don't you remember?!"

Matthew shook his head furiously to the side. Clutching his head that felt like close to exploding, he began to remember...

_"Dr. Beilshmidt..."_

_"Please Birdie, call me Gilbert. We are close now."_

_"G-gilbert then..."_

_"Yes? What's the problem?"_

_"The n-nurses they're trying to poison me!"_

_The man with red eyes smirked in amusement. He sat down across from his patient, and motioned the boy over to him. Matthew, although with some difficulty due to the straight-jacket, managed to walk over to his doctor. The safest place for him to be._

_"So it's the nurses this time? What makes you think they'd ever try to poison you?"_

_"They are! Today after they force fed me the pills they laughed! Why else would they have laughed like that?!"_

_The paitent was close to tears, his lip quivering due to an unknown fear. Gilbert reached out and sat him on his lap, making sure the blonde was facing him._

_"Wh-what?"_

_"Matthew do you trust me?"_

_The violet eyed man tilted his head in confusion, in a way that was undeniably cute. The Doctor couldn't resist in leaning down and placing a small peck on those delicious lips._

_The German couldn't help but smirk into the kiss when he felt the Canadian push back, feeding the monster held withing the Doctor. Finally he moved away, leaving his breathless patient winded._

_"Birdie, you know I love you right?"_

_"You know that I'd never let them hurt you."_

_"...N-never?"_

_"Never. I am the only one you can trust Birdie. Everyone else will only try to hurt you. Trust me Birdie. Only trust me."_

_"I-I trust you..."_

Alfred was letting his frustration towards the situation get to him. He needed to calm down and show Mattie that he was not a threat. He bent down to eye level with his Canadian cousin, and realized that Matthew was bleeding. A trail of blood flowed freely as he remembered the events of his past.

"H-he..."

Another memory flashed and interrupted Matthew.

_He opened his violet and saw himself being dragged away, still wrapped in his straight jacket but seemingly asleep. A dark red dart caught his attention. It was embedded deep into the side of his thigh. Upon closer expection he realized he had multiple darts stuck all around his thighs and shoulders._

_He could only watch as his body was dragged away by two gaurds. Matthew heard shouting, and whipped around to witness Dr. Beilshmidt straddling a guard and punching him with reckless abandon. Without his consent, Matthew ran at him. He tried to wrap his arms around Gilbert and pull him off the man but his arms just went through his body._

_Matthew had to remind himself that he was only reliving a memory so as to not panic. But he couldn't help it when finally more guards arrived and took hold of a now bloody Dr. Beilshmidt._

_"Mein Birdie! Mein Birdie! Matthew! Don't worry, I'll find you!" He called, reaching desperately in the direction Matthew's limp body was being carried off to. A pounding in his head made Matthew cry out and screw his eyes shut._

When he reopened them, he was on the floor back in his house, with a worried American shoving tissues up his nose.

Matthew sat up slowly, and gently pushed his fretting cousin out of the way. All his memories came flooding back. His therapy sessions with Mr. Bonnefoy, the court trial, his administration to the Hetalia Asylum, his white room, and Dr. Beilshmidt.

_"Please Birdie, call me Gilbert. We are close now."_

Gilbert. Gilbert. A thousand times Gilbert. He remembered. It was Gilbert. The things they did. The drugs. The doctor's dirty office that held all their secrets.

_"Please Birdie, call me Gilbert. We are close now."_

Close. They were close. They were lovers. The drug helped. Matthew loved the drug. The drug called lust. It helped. It helped him forget. He was safe with the Dr. Beilshmidt. But Dr. Beilshmidt was dirty. He was just as confused as Matthew.

_"Please Birdie, call me Gilbert. We are close now."_

They were caught. A guard that trespassed onto their forbidden territory and saw poor, crazy Matthew bent over a table. He was taken away after that. He was shot with so many drugs he had to fall asleep. When he had next woken up, he had no recollection of the past year he had spent locked up.

_"We are close now."_

It all made sense now.

Matthew looked up to Alfred and smiled, blood smeared around his face. He calmly stood up as if had not been hallucinating in the past hour. His American cousin, looked at him warily, still expecting Matthew to turn hostile at any moment.

"I remember, Alfred."

Matthew could practically see all the stress and worry exit Alfred as he slouched and smiled. He clapped Matthew on the back, completely forgetting his brute strength, and began talking excitedly.

"I'm so glad you're cured now, Mattie! You really had me worried!"

"I'm sorry it took me this long to realize that there really is no threat. It was all just my imagination."

"Whew~Glad to hear that! I'll come by on Monday to pick you up and we'll head over to your Mom's house. I bet she's worried sick!"

"Sure."

"Alright then, I'll leave you alone now so go get some rest Mattie!"

"Please Alfred, call me Birdie. Aren't we close?"

"Uh, sure. See ya!"

Matthew shut the door after Alfred, a small smile on his still bloody face. He slowly climbed up the stairs to the second floor, and walked over to his bedroom. Slipping to the floor, he blindly searched for something hidden under his bed. Upon finding the box, he opened it, took ahold of the metal object, and trudged to his bathroom.

"There is no threat." He called out into the dark hallway. It was raining again.

_"Of course not."_ A voice called back. Oh how Matthew had missed that voice.

He entered his bathroom, not bothering to flick on the lights. He didn't need light to see what he was doing. What he was about to do anyway.

"I'm not crazy." Matthew called again, he needed reassurance.

_"Not in the slightest."_

Matthew innocent smile turned into a demented grin, as he stood in his darkened bathroom staring into the mirror. In the mirror he saw his own face, bloody and all. He didn't care about himself though, he was much to busy staring into a another pair of eyes.

Dark red eyes shown brightly in the dark bathroom. A flash of thunder sounded outside, and briefly lightened the bathroom, allowing Matthew to see a pale white face, with silver hair spiked in different directions, and a feral grin aimed directly at him.

Matthew slowly raised the metal object so that it pointed to his head as two arms, cold as the wind howling outside, wound themselves around his waist.

"Dr. Beilshmidt." He let the name fall from his lips in a whisper.

_"Please Birdie, call me Gilbert. We are close now."_

Another crack of thunder light up the blood splattered walls as it drowned out the sound of a gun firing.

* * *

So what do you think? :) Sorry if it wasn't up to your standards. Leave me a review and tell me what you thought about it, which ending you liked better and so on!

Smileyface.

-Awesome Empress


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